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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28436256">A mighty hunter, and his prey was man</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/eldritcher/pseuds/eldritcher'>eldritcher</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Chorale [8]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Eventual Happy Ending, Family, Friendship, Love, M/M, Porn, Romance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 20:40:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,534</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28436256</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/eldritcher/pseuds/eldritcher</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Turgon cannot complain.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Curufin | Curufinwë/Turgon of Gondolin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Chorale [8]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2022304</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>The Song of Sunset AU</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A mighty hunter, and his prey was man</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Fragments resorted from old drafts into questionable coherence, offered to you as a gift for making it through 2020. Well done :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p><br/>
<strong>Act I</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>No stain yet upon the Moon was seen</strong>
</p><p> </p><p><br/>
Thorondor's mighty wings gusted waves onto the flower fields as he landed before me. There was orc-blood on his claws. After the fall of Beleriand, he flew over enemy's terrain, and yet he ventured boldly to and fro, as our emissary. </p><p>"Is he sane? Is he alive?"</p><p>Thorondor ruffled his feathers, annoyed, grumpy, and told me, "Greetings, Turgon King!"</p><p>He liked his formalities. I grinned despite myself. </p><p>"Greetings, O Mighty Thorondor, Lord of Eagles and Beloved to Manwe!"</p><p>His puffery ceased then. </p><p>"The princeling is as peculiar and mad as he has been all of his days," he told me. "<em>No stain yet upon the moon was seen, and the boy walked west with a ship and a lily,</em> he said." </p><p>I swallowed, looking at the moon reflexively. </p><p>"Two nights to the full moon," Thorondor told me. "I flew as swiftly as I could." </p><p>All was quiet in my city. </p><p>"You believe him," I whispered. </p><p>"<em>You</em> believe him," Thorondor retorted. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>"Send the boy to Círdan," I ordered Laurefindë. "With the most trusted of your men. No more than six in number. Neither Tuor nor Itarillë are to be informed. Nobody is to be told! The party must leave now."</p><p>"My King, what is wrong? What has you frightened?" Laurefindë asked. </p><p>He had taught me the sword once. He had been my grandfather's guard. Every King he had served had died, unprotected. </p><p>"Do as I ask," I commanded. </p><p>"The Princess-"</p><p>"Do as I ask!"</p><p>The boy was taken out of the city that night, swaddled warm in a blanket woven of the flax of wild lilies, clutching his toy ship.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>At dawn, as the city readied for the Festival of Lights, high in the mountains we saw the red fires of sorcery blazing.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>"Where is the boy?" Sauron demanded, as I stood alone on the balcony of my tower. </p><p>I had intended to burn to death, for fires tall blazed in the tower, but Sauron had arrived in time to prevent that blessed escape.</p><p>He had the look of a madman that grieved. </p><p>Laurefindë had fallen, I had heard the men cry, defending the retreat of the Princess. </p><p>"You killed Laurefindë," I said with relish. </p><p>Sauron's face blanched, and spittle flew from his lips when he yelled curses to burn me in his red flames of sorcery. My screams resounded about the tower, echoing in the emptied, fallen city. </p><p>"Where is the boy? Shall I slaughter the retreat?" He demanded. "There is no valiant to protect them now." </p><p>Ektelë, Salmë, and Laurefindë had all fallen. I hoped that Thorondor had had the sense to flee to the coast, to Russandol. </p><p>"Tuor leads them," I told him. "Son of Huor, who was brother to Hurin, who was father to Turin. Their family has cost your master greatly before. There is no dearth of valiants, Sauron."</p><p>"Hurin! Your old friend whom you betrayed. Whatever became of him?" Sauron asked, jeering. </p><p>I said nothing, torn by the guilt I had carried for years.</p><p>"Where is the boy?" He demanded. "Swordless, shieldless, you stand alone. Shall I drag you to my master? He has missed having a scion of Finwe in his halls."</p><p>The wind flayed fierce the burns on my skin. </p><p>"He shall be crowned King. You cannot hide him," Sauron reminded me. </p><p>I inhaled sharply, realizing the depth of my cousin's strategy. </p><p>Ereinion was next in line, not Earendil. Maitimo had committed treason, going against my brother's command, going against our family's express wishes, in naming and claiming a misbegotten bastard that my brother had no interest in. He had gone further, in declaring the child second in line to the throne. The factions in our courts had been furious, demanding that Maitimo be brought to heel, that Ereinion be removed from succession. It was only Findekáno's intercession that had spared us from infighting. </p><p>Earendil was our child of prophecy. His were the words laid upon stream and stone that Maitimo had seen. If he made it to Círdan, then he would be raised in hiding.</p><p>It was Ereinion that the Enemy would know as King. </p><p>Atarinkë had written to me before his death. It had been a note of parting. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p> </p>
  <p> We must believe, my falcon, that my brother has seen a way. </p>
  <p>Findekáno kept faith. So must we. Our war is with the Gods, to the East and to the West. No crown, no sword, no army can save us now. </p>
  <p>Remember the tale of the Thrall, the Knave, and the Knight.    </p>
  <p>Perhaps, if we fell as he wills, you and I and our loves, it may give him a sliver of chance. He bides his time. He clings to life. His concerns are no longer of our present or future on Arda. He gazes upon the arch of heaven; it is neither the stars nor the moon nor the sun that he seeks.</p>
  <p>Is it madness? Is it foresight? I cannot say. </p>
  <p>What choice do we have now?" </p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>"What have you done?" Sauron asked, the first flicker of fear entering his expression. His master would not be kind if he returned without the boy. </p><p>Then, realizing that he would not find his answers in me, he conjured a flaming sword of jet black, wreathed in smoke and flame.  </p><p>"Your cousin in Tol Sirion was poor sport. Please endeavor to do better," he said maliciously. </p><p>He spoke of Findaráto, whom he had slain. He did not speak of another, whom he had strung to rocks.  </p><p>No stain upon the moon was seen as I fell.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Act II</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>As gems upon a silver thread</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The Void was as dismal as the Valar had claimed it to be. Formless, shapeless, and yet brimming with memory, souls flitted alone. Drawn as if by a strange force, I found an echo of familiarity. </p><p>Atarinkë! </p><p>We sung to each other, in that place where neither time nor light walked, even if we had neither voices nor ears. </p><p>I was content. </p><p>I had done my part. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Morgoth fell into the Void as a great tower crashing into the sea, and the ripples of him lashed us into unimaginable pain. Unerringly, he caught the loneliest of us; he caught my poor uncle. </p><p>"Fëanáro! How I have missed you old friend!" </p><p>And he began the torment, weaving songs strong of malice and fear. </p><p>I stretched my soul about Atarinkë, wanting to protect him. I could not save him from his soothsaying brother. </p><p>However could I protect him from a God?</p><p>His soul upon mine was quiet as it clung, and its substance was careworn faith.<br/>
 </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The Door of the Night opened, and pell-mell fell in the Gods. </p><p>And after them, shutting the door closed on the old world, was our herald of dusk, our adamant Artanis. </p><p>Morgoth slaughtered his siblings, until only Varda and Manwe were left. </p><p>The first truth of our creation was this. Aure Entuluva, Varda had promised Morgoth, and drawn stars as a veil upon his skies. A brother she had loved and a brother she had wed. </p><p>Then deep from the core of Morgoth's miasma stirred another power. Faint as a rising star struggling in heavy earthward mists, and then gleaming brilliant as its power waxed, it began to burn, and kindled to a silver flame, a minute heart of dazzling light set amid the deep of the dark; thus came down the last of a conjurer's secrets. </p><p>And as gems upon a silver thread, we woke under the arch of another heaven. </p><p>Atarinkë kissed me as I wept in his arms. <br/>
 <br/>
I could only weep, clinging, frightened that this was a cruel illusion too. </p><p>How many times had I dreamed of him only to wake alone in a world where he had been slain?</p><p>"My brave falcon," he soothed me, again and again. "My brave Turkáno." </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<strong>Act III</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>A mighty hunter, and his prey was man</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p><br/>
"I cannot," I said flatly. </p><p>"It is hardly a ride of two hours," Findaráto wheedled. </p><p>"Absolutely not!" I refused. </p><p>He sighed and left. </p><p>My family had tried to cajole me to leave the house, in vain. Here I was and here I would remain, ensuring that I was with them. </p><p>Long and harrowing had been the loneliness in my girdle of mountains. I feared anything that might take me away from my family. </p><p>I had begun walks about our quarters and courtyards, whenever anxiety flared in me. I would tally the counts then. Who was present? Who had ridden out? Then, frightened, I would wait in the courtyard for the absent to return safely home. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Atarinkë was exceptionally patient. He had always been. Yet, he itched to explore these new lands. </p><p>"You may go," I said bravely. </p><p>"There is no need for that. Findaráto has seen every man and Tyelko has seen every dale and dell," he replied. "We have now both a census and a map, thanks to them."</p><p>"I know you wish to hunt with the rest of them," I muttered.</p><p>"Endeavor not to tell me what I must wish?" He teased me. </p><p>I sighed. </p><p>Laughing, he knelt before me. "Fuck my mouth, won't you? I have missed your taste in my throat." </p><p>"We shall be late for supper!"</p><p>"Oh, you overestimate your stamina, my dear!"</p><p>Irked, I forced his mouth open and scraped a warning finger against his palate. I was a fierce lover of great stamina! And I meant to prove it.</p><p>His mouth, velvet-soft and warm, was a dangerous thing cloaked about my cock. I caressed his cheek and wiped the tears from his eyes as I held him there at breath's edge, before relenting. </p><p>"Learned your lesson?" I demanded. </p><p>Mirth flashed bright in his eyes as he brought his palms to knead my arse, through the thin cotton of my robes. He knew I was weak for this and I cursed as my knees buckled at his none too tender ministrations. Urged by competitiveness, I began fucking his mouth, my meticulously schemed pace falling apart to uncoordinated thrusting and ebbing. </p><p>When he dug his fingers into the parting of my thighs, I swore and spent in his mouth copiously, and relished the sight of his face streaked in seed. </p><p>Flushed, he made to wipe his face clean, but I shook my head. </p><p>"Turkáno-"</p><p>"Stay there, wearing my come." I pressed my boot against his crotch. "Would you like my assistance?"</p><p>He whined and bowed his head, overwhelmed. I cupped his jaw and forced him to meet my gaze. So lovely was he, in utter disarray, needy and embarrassed, as he moved his hips against my boot. </p><p>For the first time since my waking, I felt brave. </p><p>"Strip," I ordered him. "If you must hump my boot as a dog, you need no clothes for it."</p><p>"Turkáno, please," he babbled, clutching my hips and thighs in desperation, too close to his edge to deny me anything. I slapped his hands away and waited until he clumsily stripped. </p><p>"Turn around," I ordered him. "On your shoulders and knees."</p><p>The arch of his back, muscled from his enterprises in the forge, was a gorgeous curve. I badly wanted to kneel and cover him and bite him at the place where his right shoulder met neck. There was a mole there, a delicate daubed dot, that tempted me. </p><p>"I should keep you so!" I said sincerely.</p><p>"My falcon, please," he exhorted, keening. "Attend to me, or I will have you on my cock!" </p><p>That had the make of a promising evening. However, I was in charge! Taken by impulse, I snapped my hand against his arse, and his stuttered exclamation of my name was music. </p><p>"What have you been reading?" He demanded, spreading his thighs further, giving to me himself, his thick cock and balls and hole. </p><p>"They call me the Wise, did you not know?" I asked wryly. </p><p>Taking a deep breath, I hit him once more, and once more again. The heavy bounce of his cock as he swayed with my hand was a lewd and lovely thing. His arse was warm and turning red, but he betrayed no sign of discomfort, in how he thrust himself eagerly into my swings.  His words were garbled, but I could make out my name and half-coherent entreaties. Carefully, I tautened my fingers and struck him upon his hole. He screamed and clenched, and his cock spurted a dribble onto my boot. </p><p>"Again!" He demanded, shameless and keen.</p><p>I acquiesced, and gave him what he sought, until he spent himself over my boot. Before I could caress him and pull him into a kiss, he turned about and winked at me. </p><p>"What-"</p><p>He laughed and bent to lick my boot clean. The sight of him, knelt with his face pressed to the ground, laving clean leather and buckle, with his arse high in the air and turned red from my hand, made my cock stir once more. </p><p>"You are a filthy animal!" I said fervently, afterwards, letting him kiss me as he pleased. </p><p>"You bring out the best in me," he said happily. </p><p>"Now we are late for supper! I told you so!" I said, vexed.</p><p>"Surely you are not going to claim it is your stamina? You came twice like a little boy. The second time you did not even need a hand on your cock!"<br/>
 </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Lulled by <em>two</em> orgasms as I was, and distracted charmingly by the flush on Atarinkë's cheeks when he sat down and winced, I paid little attention to the conversation.  It did not matter. They were discussing a hunt. </p><p>"You can accompany them," Fëanáro was telling Atarinkë. "I will be here."</p><p>Atarinkë's face was a study in chagrin. He did not want to tell Fëanáro that he was the last person Atarinkë trusted to leave me with. Fëanáro, once he was immersed in his work, did not pay mind to anything or anyone that surrounded him.</p><p>I glanced across at Russandol. He sighed and nodded assent. </p><p>"I shall have Russandol with me," I told Atarinkë. "Go hunt me a few rabbits." </p><p>"Rabbits?" Atarinkë teased. "What manner of hunter do you think I am?"</p><p>"A mighty hunter, and your prey was a falcon," I retorted. He burst into laughter. </p><p>"You reek of sex," Findaráto told me then, sniffing the air in distaste. "Sex before supper is a terrible practice."</p><p>"Why?" I asked, though I should have known better than to.</p><p>Sure enough, he launched into a discourse on the best times of the day to have sex of various kinds. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p><br/>
The days were quiet, and the house empty. Fëanáro stayed in his corner of the forge. Telpë stayed in his corner of the forge.</p><p>Russandol and I had the house to ourselves. I read to him often, in the library, and he sat at my feet quietly listening. In the evenings, after supper, we discussed music and philosophy. </p><p>After Angband, I had missed him dearly as he had once been. His interest in word and song had vanished after his return. I could not blame him for it, but I had missed the man who had taught me in Tirion of logic and music and our endless debates in our grandfather's halls.  </p><p>Now, even if he remembered nothing, he held his own as we debated, and I hearkened to his eloquence once more.  He had been my teacher and my friend, before he had become my faith and bane. </p><p>"Accompany me to the lake?" Russandol asked me. </p><p>"No," I said, incredulous. </p><p>The lake was far. </p><p>He said nothing more. </p><p>"What is it?" I asked softly. </p><p>"Are you angry?" He asked. The fear in his voice was stark. </p><p>I paused my work, and bent to loop my arms about his neck, resting my head upon his. </p><p>I had held him so, to prevent him thrashing when Artanis bled the fever from him. I had held him so, to keep him safe, when he had made to attack Gothmog after Findekáno's fall, after Hurin's capture.  </p><p>Was I angry?</p><p>I thought of being sent away with a mangled crown, though I had begged Russandol to let me stay, to let me fight and die with Atarinkë as our routed armies retreated from Beleriand.</p><p>I thought of my daughter and my nephew, of Itarillë and Lomion, of how they had sold our city to Morgoth. I thought of the little boy I had sent safely away. I thought of Sauron readying to slaughter me, as we stood upon a tower that burned. </p><p>I thought of Elenwë falling, her eyes wide and panicking as the Ice gave away. She had been singing one of Macalaurë's songs to keep our people steady. She had been singing until blocks of Ice had covered her. <em>In an age of gold, youth and maiden bright danced</em>, she had sung, as the doom took her away from me. </p><p>I thought of Atarinkë, falling in the caves of Doriath. He had died defending Russandol from Dior. He had died in Artanis's arms. Macalaurë had cremated him. <em>The wood was young and it took long to burn</em>, they had written to me. I had wandered among the wild lilies of my mountains, lonely and silent, and only Thorondor had seen me grieve. </p><p>Was I angry? How could I be?  </p><p><em>In vain</em>, Mandos had prophesied. </p><p>In vain had it all been, every swing of sword and every song of faith. Against divinity, we had fought, and found ourselves shattered. </p><p>Desperate, Russandol had foresworn crown and throne, and had carven power of sacrifice. There had been no other way. </p><p>"Don't be an idiot," I said briskly. </p><p>I refused to watch him flay himself over what he could not understand anymore. </p><p>"I cost you your family."</p><p>"You are my family." </p><p>It was the truth.</p><p>We made for bed. </p><p>He settled quietly on the chaise, deep in his thoughts. I dreaded where his mind may take him, flawed instrument of our eden that it had been. </p><p>"Come to bed," I ordered him. </p><p>We had shared a bedroll often, in inns along the path from Tirion to Valmar, whenever we rode together, he to Ingwe's court and I to woo Elenwë. He would sing to me his brother's songs until I slept. If we had had wine before retiring, I would coax him to teach me bawdy songs of the warriors.  </p><p>"Is this all right?" He asked me, slipping under the covers. "Artanis says I am a restless sleeper."</p><p>"Serves you right for sleeping with Artanis," I muttered. </p><p>Thinking of Artanis saddened me. She mourned Celeborn. She feared men and flinched away from us. Yet, as only Artanis could, she bravely carried on. She and I carried phobias of old, but she had not let any cripple her.</p><p>She had not deserved her lot. Her father had wept for her. She had died before he could see her again. Her husband- </p><p>I had been a walking wraith after Atarinkë's death. Only purpose had remained. </p><p>Celeborn did not even have purpose left to him.</p><p>"Artanis shall be fine," Russandol promised me. </p><p>He had given me many outrageous and extraordinary promises once. He had kept them all. </p><p>"How are matters with Macalaurë?"</p><p>"He remembers everything. I remember nothing. The disparity suits him." </p><p>Russandol laughed.  There was no sadness in him anymore. I was fiercely glad for it. </p><p>"Macalaurë has always thrilled in power over you, petty thing that he can be," I said dryly. </p><p>Macalaurë was a possessive beast. I had never understood their dynamic, despite the many attempts Atarinkë had made to explain it to me. </p><p>"Power suits him," Russandol offered lightly. </p><p>"You were always peculiar," I said, laughing. "Thorondor had the right of it."</p><p>"Thorondor." </p><p>Russandol spoke the name carefully, searching deep for meaning he no longer remembered. </p><p>I had considered oblivion the culmination that he deserved. Thorondor, though. I sighed. I could not keep this from him. </p><p>"Thorondor was the Lord of Eagles, beloved to Manwe."</p><p>Russandol's breath hitched. He took my hand in his, silently imploring. </p><p>"He was your friend," he assessed. </p><p>"He was our friend," I told him. "On our lonely mountains, you and I, wedded to purpose, had none to turn to. We clung to life and waited for death. Thorondor came to you in the summers. He came to me in the winters. He was our only friend." </p><p>Once, he had brought my cousin home upon his mighty wings. Once, he had brought Hurin to me. Once, he had brought my father to me.  </p><p>He had chosen us, and Manwe had not found him beloved any more. </p><p>Thorondor had been the last of his kind, after Sauron had burned the eagles and their eyries during the fall of Gondolin. He had fought the dragons of Angband on Thangorodrim's cliffs. Without eyrie or kin, then he had wandered alone over cold seas and fallow lands afterwards. Where his tale ended, none knew.</p><p>"Blackfeather," Russandol whispered. </p><p>"You called him that, once, when his name was unknown to you, and he never let you forget the travesty."</p><p>I stared at the ceiling. My father and Fëanáro had fought so over the decorations, but Fëanáro had scowled and relented to these ornate and gilded spreads upon walls and ceilings. <em>Tasteless</em>, he had muttered. The gilded  golden leaves of the carvings shone dim in the night, as stars upon a silver thread.</p><p>I had been the first to reach Thorondor that day. Findekáno had been in shock. Thorondor had lowered a wing so that I may ascend to them. I had been the first to see what Findekáno held. I had screamed. Russandol had fought me, frightened, with not a whit of lucidity to him. Thorondor had soothed him. </p><p>"Blackfeather," he had whispered then, assuaged. </p><p>My father had hastened to us and coaxed my cousin into his arms. Findekáno had not spoken for weeks afterwards. </p><p>The Eagle had hung around the camp, and occasionally grudgingly sought me for news. His feathers had remained bloodstained for years. We had begun to strike up a camaraderie, united by our vexation and worry over my cousin. <br/>
 <br/>
"Come with me to the lake," Russandol asked. </p><p>There was a strangeness to him then, as he lay beside me quiescent. </p><p>"No more," I whispered, to the night's tranquility. </p><p>I feared even my shadow. <em>My brave falcon</em>, Atarinkë called me still, and the falsity stung. </p><p>"I shall be with you," Russandol promised. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>In the morning, clad in my warmest woolen robes, I waited nervously in the courtyard. Russandol was charming one of the maids who was trimming the rose bushes. She laughed and nodded eagerly.  Pleased, he took his leave of her and came to me.</p><p>"Does Macalaurë know?" I wondered. </p><p>"Macalaurë trusts me." </p><p>We truly must be under the aegis of another heaven, I mused. Macalaurë would have gladly trapped him in a tower once, untrusting and paranoid and possessive as he had been. In Macalaurë's defense, peril had followed Russandol everywhere. So had the valiants.  Macalaurë had been allergic to valiants. He had been rabidly allergic to anyone that dared glance upon his brother in curiosity. </p><p>Lost to my musings as I had been, I did not realize until later that we had wandered farther away from the house than I ever had before. </p><p>"Russandol." </p><p>"Teach me a song."</p><p>"A song?"</p><p>"A bawdy one!" He demanded. "Macalaurë has been ruthless in writing poetry for me. No odes are they. Drenched in lewdness, they have been my undoing of late."</p><p>Macalaurë come to the fullness of wisdom, I had always known, would mean the end of Russandol's streak of whimsical independence, if he willed. Once, Macalaurë had not known how to bring his brother to thaw. I had been glad for it, because Russandol had been shattered and had only his pride left to him.</p><p>Now, Macalaurë knew too well to bring his brother to bear, and Russandol had no recourse to hide behind enigma's veil. I was not worried for them anymore. Macalaurë might be high-handed and irresistible, but Russandol had held his own against Gods.</p><p>So I sung to him the bawdy songs I remembered. He laughed and implored me for more. </p><p>"Orcish hordes en masse you fucked,<br/>
Odd types into your bed you tucked,<br/>
You took on wizards and Elves,<br/>
And men, and Dwarves, and their horses too.<br/>
Yet you, voracious vessel,<br/>
Have never known my mighty dick."</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The lake lay placid. </p><p>Russandol took my trembling hand in his. The purpose in his stride alarmed me, but he flashed a bright smile to assuage my fears. </p><p>On the far side, there was a small and squalling thing. </p><p>"Cousin!" I exclaimed and broke into a run. He followed me, laughing. </p><p>As madmen, we raced each other about the lake's periphery, but he let me win as he always had. In memory, in oblivion, he remained so incandescently himself. Overwhelmed, I tugged him close as we knelt in the mud. The chick hopped right onto my lap, drawn to heat, even if it was still blind and wingless. My cousin's hands came swift to secure it when it wobbled and fell.</p><p>No beast or bird had taken to me in all my life. Even my horses had obeyed me grudgingly. Atarinkë had teased me endlessly for it. </p><p>"Here," Russandol said, coaxing, supporting the eaglet's soft and floppy head. "It shall take a few weeks for him to learn how to keep his neck steady."</p><p>"He is blind," I whispered.</p><p>"Only for a while," my cousin reassured me. He tore off the sleeve of his silken robes and gently wrapped the warm fabric about the trembling bird. "Poor thermoregulation, until the second coat grows in," he explained. </p><p>"Macalaurë shan't be pleased if you walk about with ripped robes."</p><p>"Ah, yes, the daintiness of my elbow is the most seductive sight there is. He is rich. He can keep me in silk robes even if I tear them everyday." </p><p>"Does he?" I asked wryly. </p><p>Nolofinwë was the idiot who liked cladding my cousin in finery. Macalaurë was yet to discover a color that was not black and a fabric that was not cotton or wool.   </p><p>The eaglet pressed its head to my chest then. </p><p>"Your heartbeat," Russandol explained, stroking the crop of the chick's tender neck soothingly, until it hearkened to him. </p><p>"Cousins!" </p><p>It was Artanis. She had Ereinion with her. She must have come upon us when on her morning perambulations. Her eyes were wide in shock. This was the furthest I had walked from home. Concern was writ large on her features as she assessed my state.</p><p>"Come over, Artanis!" I exclaimed happily. "Come over!" </p><p>She came over with Ereinion. Then she laughed and laughed until she wept in his arms.</p><p>Flummoxed, he asked us, "Is this your eagle?" </p><p>It was testament to his acclimatization to us that he remained unflappable. </p><p>I looked to Russandol and grinned at him. </p><p>"Thorondor," we said in unison. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>"You adopted an eagle? You, the bane of all beasts and birds?" Findaráto demanded. "We banned you from the stables because you spook the horses so!"</p><p>"The eagle adopted us once," I said. </p><p>There was only hilarity at the table as I endeavored to explain our association.  </p><p>"Russandol, I can believe. This is hardly the most peculiar thing he has done," Irissë said, laughing at me. "You, we once called <em>Wise</em>."</p><p>"Is this why you call him a falcon?" My father asked Atarinkë, puzzled. </p><p>"I meant his aquiline nose, Nolofinwë. However was I to know that he would find a literal interpretation?" </p><p>"It is hardly as if I bedded Thorondor!" I exclaimed, exasperated by their ribaldry. </p><p>"Oh, he threatened to steal Russandol to his eyrie ever so often," Macalaurë said wickedly. </p><p>"I shan't mind living in an eyrie," Russandol held. </p><p>Both he and I had found a measure of solace in Thorondor's eyries, wretched and alone as we had been. </p><p>"Let them be," Findekáno intervened. "Turkáno, Russandol, tell me if I can help." </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>"I am proud of you," Atarinkë told me that night. </p><p>I had been combing my hair before bed. I paused in my chore, and caught his eyes in the mirror. </p><p>"That was the farthest you had ventured from home." </p><p>It was for a friend. It was for Thorondor. I could have hardly done anything else.</p><p>I had failed Hurin once. I would not betray a friend again.</p><p>"Loyal and devoted, my falcon," Atarinkë teased me. Yet, there was frightening sincerity in his voice too. </p><p>I turned to look up at him. The love in his eyes was a pure and plain thing, flaying. </p><p>"Atarinkë-"</p><p>"Close your eyes." </p><p>I obeyed. His hands came to my hair, soft and caressing. </p><p>"Open them now." </p><p>In the mirror, I saw a circlet of opals upon the dark tresses of my head, as gems upon a silver thread. </p><p>"Let me take you as you wear only this."</p><p>"Yes," I begged, craving him as he wished me. </p><p>Without being bidden to, I rose and disrobed hastily, and bent over the chair I had been seated upon. In the mirror, his eyes blazed in need as they drank in my wanton offering. </p><p>"What do you want? My mouth? My fingers? My cock?"</p><p>How could he expect me to answer him in this state? The soft leather of the chair rubbed against my chest. I had nowhere to seek friction for my needy cock. </p><p>"I don't care! Anything! Everything! Atarinkë, please."  </p><p>He laughed and bent to spit over my hole. The crudity of it took my breath away. </p><p>He undid his belt and ran it teasingly over the nape of my neck. </p><p>"Yes, yes, yes," I demanded, done with his insinuations and seduction. </p><p>"What an impatient, needy thing you are!" He muttered, heated, and when he bent over me to leash his belt about my neck, his cock slotted neatly between my legs.  </p><p>"Atarinkë, stop talking," I ordered. </p><p>He tutted and tugged the leash, and I fell silent at the delicious pressure about my throat. </p><p>Fortunately, he had never been one for patience or for foreplay. He took me without ado, rough and overwhelming as he made me yield without readying me with fingers or tongue. The thick of him drove me forward and before I could strike the mirror, he caught me by the chest and tugged me gently back with the leash.   </p><p>He cursed when he saw me in the mirror, chest rubbed red by the friction of leather, throat buckled up by his belt, belly streaked with sweat and want under his broad palm, adorned only by the opals he had gifted me. </p><p>"My brave falcon!" He said fervently as he spent. </p><p>Before I could find my breath again, he stuffed his fingers into me, beside his softening cock. </p><p>"Too many!" I whispered, though I wanted.</p><p>"You have taken more. You can take more."</p><p>I took them all and he called me his very good boy. The praise sent me careening into climax, and I closed my eyes in relief, knowing he would see to the rest of it.  </p><p>"I shall have to make you a collar," was the last of his words before I fell asleep. </p><p>A capital idea.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>"Obscene your contentment!" Artanis said, when she found me in the morning. </p><p>"The birds are singing, the flowers are in bloom, whatever is there to make me a malcontent?"</p><p>She scowled and began prying into my writing, critiquing this and that. </p><p>"You could write with me, you know," I told the dear thing. </p><p>It was her way of asking. So afraid was she of denial that she would insinuate herself into what she wanted without bringing the words to ask. </p><p>I did not mind. </p><p>We had all our scars. </p><p>"Well, I shall deign to. You will not be able to handle a project of such complexity by yourself."</p><p>"I know," I told her mildly. </p><p>Grateful, she grinned at me, and settled in for our venture.  </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>"Have you considered the fine institution of marriage?" My father pressed us.</p><p>He had invited Findekáno and I to luncheon with him. Bright-eyed and exuberant, he had greeted us and ushered us to his little pavilion that overlooked the orchards. </p><p>Once the maids had left, he had set about right to business. </p><p>"Marriage?" I asked him warily. </p><p>"Are you thinking of marrying Fëanáro?" Findekáno queried, pale at the very thought. </p><p>"Don't be silly!" Father chided him. "I have him available to me whenever I choose. What purpose shall marriage have? It certainly shall not turn him more malleable."</p><p>Father's opinion on marriage, it need not be said, was not worth ascribing for posterity. His brothers had found him in Laurefindë's bed on the day of his wedding. My mother had loudly and vehemently told everyone in Tirion that it had taken <em>assistance</em> to engender children, cock-crazed maniac that my father had been and was. </p><p>"Brother, he is asking us if we will marry!" I exclaimed, staring at our my twisted father. </p><p>Father may not believe in marriage, but he loved arranging spectacles of pomp and gaiety. He had been after his children and niece and nephews to marry for the longest time. </p><p>"Well?" Father asked, pleased, sitting back on his chaise among many garish and gilded pillows. He daintily dabbed cream and jam on his scone, and poured himself tea. </p><p>"Father-"</p><p>"Turkano, you have been carrying on shamelessly with Atarinkë since we crossed the bloody Ice!" Father accused me. "You must marry!"</p><p>"What of Macalaurë?" I begged. "Ask him first."</p><p>"Russandol shan't have it! I taught him too well about how marriage is a meaningless institution to the truly in love!" Father lamented.  "I am trying to convince Macalaurë to rebel."</p><p>I pressed my fingers into my eyes and said nothing, wishing that we could leave. </p><p>"Findekáno, you cannot hope to set Ereinion a good example if you carry on with Artanis without offering her a suit!" Father continued, riled up and keen.</p><p>He went on and on, harridan that he could be, until his plate of scones was empty. </p><p>After he dismissed us, I tugged Findekáno to my quarters.</p><p>"We must make him stop! You know how he is once he has an idea!"  </p><p>Findekáno had said little during the meal, but now he smiled and told me, "Atarinkë shan't dismiss it, if you asked him." </p><p>I spluttered. The madness was truly contagious! </p><p>"You are recommending marriage?" I demanded of my brother who had bedded the half of our army Father had not bedded. </p><p>"I offered once," he said frankly. </p><p>I fell silent. I had forgotten the deep and still waters underneath the facade of his charm. </p><p>His expression was colored by discomfort and he made to turn away. I caught his arm. If he needed me to listen, I would. Who else did he have? I was his brother. </p><p>"When?" I asked him gently. </p><p>"In Himring," he replied quietly, eyes faraway. "It was the first time I had visited him. On his barren mountain, happily he lived, and he showed me the eyries of the eagles and vales of wildflowers in mountain's heart. He feasted me in his halls and pinned a lapel of crimson winter's yarrow to my robes. We danced to the tunes of the minstrels, long into night's end. I had not had a drop to drink. It was the first night I had not wanted the solace of inebriation."</p><p>I placed my hand on his wrist, knowing well what must have followed. </p><p>"Ours was not an arrangement...conventional. Yet, that night had been different. There had been laughter, even if it had been fraught and fragile."</p><p>Findekáno looked away, ashamed.</p><p>"It is all right," I told him truthfully. "It is all right now."</p><p>"I asked him."</p><p>Had Russandol refused immediately? Had there been harsh words? Or worse, had it been silence and a hasty departure?</p><p>"It shan't be fair to tell you of this," Findekáno said, loyal to the end. "You love him."</p><p>"You are my brother. I love you too." </p><p>He trembled when I embraced him. Then, finding courage, as he ever had, he went on. </p><p>"He wept. His happiness, incandescent as it had been before I had uttered the accursed words, shattered into nothing. I apologized many times. We never spoke of it again." He took a shaky breath. "We never spoke of any of it, in truth. I was what he needed then. It sufficed."</p><p>"Findekáno," I said, stricken to the heart by what he had spoken.  </p><p>He shook his head and patted my hand. </p><p>"Ask Atarinkë, brother. Even <em>I</em> was not refused, or at least, not in words."</p><p>"He loved you, even if you were both utterly mad and cruel to each other," I said staunchly. </p><p>"It took me a death or two to realize that love was a choice he had made, when it had been an inevitability of fate to you and I." </p><p>Russandol had loved many, dearly and deeply and to the detriment of himself. He had chosen only Macalaurë. Unlike the rest of us, he had never called his love for his brother fated or cursed.  It had been a choice. It had always been a choice.</p><p>Creatures of clay we had been, until he had shown that in us we carried the will that had unwoven fate and shattered its loom.  </p><p>"Ask Atarinkë," Findekáno said in parting, and left me alone.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>"Let me measure your neck," he said, dragging me to the forge. </p><p>"You were in earnest then?"</p><p>"Whenever am I not?" He looked at me warily. </p><p>"Nolofinwë has been clamoring for marriages. Dauntlessly has he chased Macalaurë."</p><p>"They are brothers!"</p><p>I raised an eyebrow at my lover. </p><p>"Russandol's views on marriage are remarkably similar to his views on Gods," Atarinkë pointed out. </p><p>That was true. Russandol had been, for better or worse, raised by my father and carried all his slipshod morals. </p><p>"What of yours?" I queried. </p><p>"Well, I have already given you a circlet and a collar."</p><p>"May I demand a ring, my generous one?"</p><p>It was the boldest suggestion I had made yet. </p><p>In the beginning, we had both told each other often and loudly that ours was a dalliance of two widowers finding a measure of mutual solace in times of death and blood. We had been sexually compatible. Foolishly, we had not spoken of our hearts until it had been too late. We had loved each other in unhallowed times; when I had gone to Gondolin, I had not taken another lover, and neither had he. When he had fallen, I had mourned him as a widower. </p><p>In the Void, our souls had clung to each other.</p><p>It was the boldest suggestion I had made yet, and I was not frightened. I was fearful of heights and of travel. I was fearful of fire and of mountains. I was fearful of loneliness. </p><p>I was not fearful of this.  </p><p>Atarinkë kissed me then, and his arms were the warmest place I had known.  </p><p>"Gold? Silver? Diamonds? What shall you have?" He asked me quietly. </p><p>"Black jasper, as your eyes."</p><p>"As <em>your</em> eyes!" he said. </p><p>He was madly in love, as was I. </p><p>When his mouth sought mine again, upon our lips bloomed eternity. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p> <br/>Sunset is maintained at a <a href="https://the-song-of-sunset.dreamwidth.org">Dreamwidth repository</a>. It is a set of stories that can be read as standalone or as a full alternate universe.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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